


Salt and Pepper

by ifigo



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alex is graying in his mid-30s and he is not handling it, Future Fic, M/M, Not Beta Read, but Henry and their kids kinda enjoy is so he's going with it, it's a good time for all, their kids are adorable, they are adorable, this is stupidly fluffy y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifigo/pseuds/ifigo
Summary: Henry hums a tuneless song as he slides his fingers through Alex’s hair, looping through the curls, being much more thorough than strictly necessary for the matter at hand. He pulls back after a minute, using his long fingers to cradle Alex’s face instead. Alex looks up at him through thick eyelashes, returning Henry’s apologetic gaze with his best puppy-dog eyes, as though they can sway him and make the gray go away.“Well?” Alex whispers.-   -   -The year is 2031, and Alex's hair is beginning to turn gray. June laughs, Henry smiles, and the kids have a field day.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz & June Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127





	Salt and Pepper

**Author's Note:**

> Before I begin, big kudos to all who have made their own OC kids, especially to AO3 user sharkandegg for having the most complex OC children for Alex and Henry I've seen in the fandom, with the google doc to prove it. Their kids and their mind amaze me. 
> 
> That being said, this fic introduces my own OC FirstPrince kids - meet Emma, Charlotte, and Arthur. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**April 27, 2031**  
**The Brooklyn Brownstone**

That bright Saturday couldn’t have been more welcome, bringing Alex’s long week of trying to legally change the world to a bittersweet close. The law firm Alex had been working for the last couple of years was specifically aimed towards civil rights cases of those who wouldn’t normally be able to afford legal representation. It was hard work and he loved his job, but damn was it good to have a day at home. 

Alex had spent the better part of the morning catching up on housework while the kids managed to entertain themselves - he wasn’t sure what kind of benevolent spirit he and Henry must have pleased to get children who, most of the time, could keep themselves amused, but it made for many slow and sure Saturdays. Of course, the morning _was_ peaceful, until Alex walked into their bedroom to grab his glasses and glimpsed in the tall mirror, spotting a handful of gray hairs gracing his head. 

“ _No._ ” Alex rushes to grab his glasses, shoving them on his face before leaning to the mirror, running his fingers through his curls only to uncover more gray he hadn’t noticed before. “No no _no_. I’m too young for this, oh my god.” He closes his eyes, sending up a silent prayer that his eyes are playing tricks on him, and looks again. 

There must be dozens of gray hairs scattered across his head in stark contrast with his usual deep lovely brown, mocking him, shimmering in the sun shining through the bedroom window. 

It was the end of the world. He could practically see the headlines now - “ACD GOING GRAY: Silver Fox or Boring Old Man?” He shudders at the thought. 

The logical conclusion in this trying time? Call June. 

She picks up on the third ring. 

“ _Bug._ ” 

“ _Alex,_ ” June stresses through the phone. 

“I’m losing my mind over here,” Alex says, deadpan.

He can practically feel her roll her eyes. “Oh? Should I call someone to put you out of your misery?”

“What? No,” he says. Best to get the mocking over with quickly. “I’m going gray.” 

It takes a second for it to click, then June _and_ Nora are laughing their asses off from the other end of the phone. 

“I can’t _believe_ you have me on speaker.” He looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s alone before turning back to the mirror and whisper-shouting, “This is a fucking _disaster_!” 

June calms down, taking measured breaths. “Didn’t Dad start going gray around forty? You’re, like, six years early,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. 

“ _June._ ”

“Okay, fine, fine. I’m listening.” 

Alex switches his phone to speaker and sets it on the dresser, using both hands to inspect his hair. “It’s just- there’s gray hair! All over my head! At least, I think there is.” 

“Are you wearing your glasses, nerd?” 

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me and playing into my fears.” 

June laughs again, and Alex rolls his eyes, abandoning the mirror to sit on the bed. Maybe if he ignores it the problem will go away. “Okay, sorry. This is fucking hilarious,” she clears her throat, “Where’s Henry for all this? He has working eyes.”

“He’s in a call. And my eyes work _fine_.”

“Sure they do,” June says. Alex can tell she’s still smiling. “Alright, so here’s what you do. One - definitely send me pictures because Nora has been chuckling at you for the last five minutes and we need physical proof.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Two - if I know one thing at this moment in time, it’s that little kids are painfully honest,” June says. Alex wonders which one of her and Nora’s kids had run their mouth and gotten into trouble now. “Especially your kids.” 

June, as usual, was completely correct. Last Christmas, at age five, Emma initiated a frank discussion with Philip over whether or not the tie he chose for family photos was too bland. She won; he changed ties. Alex has quite possibly never been more proud of his daughter. “True. What about it?”

“Go downstairs and present the case to your little jury.” 

“Oh my _god_. You just want the kids to make fun of me.” 

“Alex they’re little people, they don’t know any difference between brown hair and gray, you’re still the same person to them. Now, go. Love you - don’t forget the pictures!”

\- - - 

Nestled into the cushy seats of the deep navy sectional in their cozy living room are Alex and Henry’s three children. Emma, age six, is curled up with her knees to her chest as she slowly but surely pages her way through a Magic Tree House book, while Charlotte and Arthur, both three, are huddled together on one cushion, staring at Alex’s laptop on the coffee table, thoroughly engrossed in what Sesame Street has to say. They’re so damn peaceful and _quiet_ for once that Alex hesitates to interrupt. 

“Emma, can you do me a favor please?” he asks from the doorway. 

“Yeah?” Emma says, holding the ‘a’ a little too long and looking up at him with big blue eyes. Alex is wrapped around this girl’s little finger and he couldn’t even be mad about it if he wanted to. 

He crosses the room as Emma closes her book, very carefully placing the bookmark so it’s even with the bottom of the spine before setting it to the side. He settles on the floor in front of her. “What color is my hair?” he asks. 

Emma laughs, always a sucker for trick questions. “It’s brown, like mine.” 

“You’re right,” Alex smiles back, “But look closer and tell me if you see any other colors, please.” By this time the twins have become intrigued by what’s happening on the other end of the sofa and wiggle their way over, leaning on their sister and each other to get a better view. 

Emma sits criss-cross and carefully runs her hand through his curls. “Oh, there’s gray too,” she says, so calm about the impending end of Alex’s youthful looks, “Just a little bit. Why?”

Alex looks up and sighs, because, well, little kids never lie. “I just wanted to check and see if there was gray or not. Thanks,” Alex says. He doesn’t love the fact that he’s going gray, especially so early. He’s barely thirty-four, for crying out loud. But he’s not going to criticize his appearance in front of the kids, he doesn’t want them to start thinking like that about themselves. 

“Papa you’ve got- it’s _white_!” Charlotte nearly shouts, pointing with accusation. She’s much more dramatic about, well, everything - exactly Alex’s speed. 

“It’s _gray_ ,” Emma corrects her sister. They’ve been working on colors, “But good try.” 

Arthur pipes up, “I don’t see it?” 

Alex lets his kids run with the conversation, happy to lend them his hair, and just observe. “See here?” Charlotte says, looking at her brother as she wraps her pudgy fingers around a curl, pulling just a little too much, “Brown and. Uh.” 

“Gray,” Emma adds. 

“Gray.” 

Arthur smiles when he sees it too. “ _Oh_ , yeah Papa. Brown and gray.” At least June was right, again - they didn’t seem to give the gray a second glance. 

Emma gasps. “Does this mean you’re _old_?” Charlotte and Arthur giggle at the suggestion. 

He sits up and holds a hand to his chest, jaw dropping open in fake offense. He supposes he can only blame himself for that comment. “ _No_ , I am perfectly young,” he scoffs. “Thank you very much.” The trio laughs, high giggles ringing through the house. 

Their very intelligent conversation is interrupted by the sound of socked footsteps in the hall. Of course Henry would choose that exact moment to reappear, the dramatic little shit. “Who’s old now?” 

Beaming, Emma jumps off the sofa and runs over, grabbing Henry’s hand and pulling him over. “Papa is, he’s got gray hair now, so he’s old!” 

Henry throws back his head and laughs at the ceiling, beaming. “ _Oh_ , does he? I have to see this.” Alex glares but smiles at his husband anyway as Henry joins him on the floor. He leans towards Henry, the kids back on the sofa anxiously awaiting their dad’s deciding vote. 

Henry hums a tuneless song as he slides his fingers through Alex’s hair, looping through the curls, being much more thorough than strictly necessary for the matter at hand. He pulls back after a minute, using his long fingers to cradle Alex’s face instead. Alex looks up at him through thick eyelashes, returning Henry’s apologetic gaze with his best puppy-dog eyes, as though they can sway him and make the gray go away. 

“Well?” Alex whispers. 

“There are definitely gray streaks, darling,” Henry smiles, kissing Alex’s hairline and dropping his hands, “It’s lovely.” 

“We said so,” Charlotte says. The others make noises of agreement. 

Alex frowns. “There’s _streaks_?”

“That may be an exaggeration - it’s not obvious, but the gray’s definitely there. I’m almost surprised neither of us noticed before now,” Henry says, going back to grinning at the top of Alex’s head. 

He pulls his hands up in a failed attempt to cover his hair. “Stop looking, jeez.” 

Henry does not stop looking. “It’s honestly not that noticeable, yet. But if it bothers you that much we can always invest in hair dye,” he looks at Alex with a soft smile, eyes full of affection, “For what it’s worth, I kind of like it.”

The kids pipe back up. “I think it’s pretty!” Charlotte says. 

“Kinda like...like salt and pepper,” Emma adds. Charlotte nods, ginger curls bouncing. 

Alex and Henry smile at their kids. “Well,” Alex says, “Since you all think it’s nice, I suppose I can live with it.”

Little Arthur slides off the sofa and into Alex’s lap, to look up at him, brown eyes meeting brown. “But we won’t match.” 

“Oh,” Alex says. It had been a running joking in their house - Alex and Emma and Arthur all have ‘matching’ brown curls, despite the siblings not being biologically related to Alex in the slightest. Arthur even has brown eyes too. Despite their jokes, Alex didn’t know this similarity was such a big deal to him. 

Alex glances over at a very hesitant Henry before speaking. “You and Emma will still have matching hair. And, I’ve still got a lot of brown, see?”

Arthur studies his sister briefly, then turns back to Alex to appraise him. “Yeah. It’s okay then.” 

“Yep,” Alex kisses his son’s head, “I’m very glad you’re good with it.”

He lays his little head on Alex’s chest, muttering. “It’s good.”

\- - - 

Later that night, after wrestling kids into beds, Henry is sitting in the lamplit living room reading when he feels a familiar hand rustling in his hair. “Alex. What are you _doing_?” 

Alex stops, rounding the sofa to sit next to him instead. Henry shuts his book, and looking at Alex with his glasses and bits of gray, it dawns on him. “Oh, don’t tell me you were looking for gray?” 

Alex smirks, crossing his arms across his shirt. “I was, in fact, looking for gray.” 

Seeing Alex’s cocky look, Henry’s face falls. “ _No_ , don’t tell me-”

Alex laughs shortly, stopping to smile at his husband. “There’s no gray, sweetheart. I’m fucking with you.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Henry claims, but he can’t get rid of his signature half-smirk. 

“But babe, your _face_.”

“ _Alex_.”

“Alright, alright, I give in,” Alex says, pulling a blanket off the back of the sofa and tucking it over both of them. It had been a long day, but it had been a good one, newfound hair discoveries notwithstanding. 

Following the Gray Hair Fiasco, he’d sent the requested pictures to June and Nora, who then forwarded them to Bea and Pez, which turned into a video call that Alex spent most of with his head hoisted to the camera. They had laughed, they talked to friends, and only one kid cried all day. Now the streets were dark and the house was quiet. So Alex and Henry rested, cozied up in their living room, fireplace flickering, drinking in the simple pleasantness of each other’s company. 

Alex never thought he would get to have this. 

“So, we’re getting old, apparently,” Alex says, turning to run his fingers along the side of Henry’s face, watching as he leans into the touch. “You’ve already been working on crow’s feet for a few years. When are you planning on joining me in the gray hair club?”

Henry groans. “No, _you_ are getting old. I refuse to admit I’m aging, but I will take the laugh lines,” he says softly, turning to Alex, blue eyes shining, “It’s a sign I’ve had a good time.” 

Alex smiles back. Maybe he’ll end up with crow’s feet before Henry grays. Either way, he doesn’t think he’d mind

“However, to answer your question,” Henry continues, “If genetics has anything to say about it, I won’t be graying for a while. My dad was blond forever, and I’m still almost twenty-five years younger than he was. So you may be in this alone for a long time, love.”

“Damn your good genes.” Alex smirks, then, catching the gleam in Henry’s eye, they both break out into quiet laughter, “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m enjoying this the perfect amount, thank you very much.”

“Sure you are.” Alex leans his head on Henry’s shoulder. He has a thought. “Do you know if your brother is graying yet?”

Henry laughs, eyes crinkling like they always do now. “You’re _really_ reaching for a conclusion you’re not going to find,” he pauses, “And no, I don’t think so, at least not as of a few months ago. Ask Martha.”

“ _Dammit._ You know what, I think I will ask her.”

“Have fun with that.”

“Shit talking y’all with Martha? Always.”

Henry looks down at him, eyebrow raised. “Is that really what you do?”

“Yep,” Alex says, popping the ‘p’.

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet you love me anyway.”

Henry contemplates for a second. “Well, I tried not to,” he admits. “It didn’t go so well if you remember.”

Alex smirks. “Yeah, yeah I do.” 

Henry rests his head on Alex’s. After a minute, he hums. “Sometimes I can’t believe we made it. That we get to have _this_ , peace and love and a _home_ , gray hairs and the occasional screaming kid included. That in the end, despite it all, it was you and I.”

He pauses. “Way to make it sincere, Wales,” Alex sighs, still surprised by Henry’s mind after all these years. “Sometimes I don’t believe it either, if I’m honest. But there’s no place I’d rather be, and no one else I’d rather do it with.”

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, the steady patter of rain on the windows only interrupted by the occasional passing car, or a dog down the block barking into the night. 

"And you call me the sap in this relationship." 

"Well, you started it, after all." 

This was home. They would never let it go. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it to the notes!
> 
> Not beta read - all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated


End file.
